My Once Pleasant Dreams
by justanoutlaw
Summary: Mary Margaret is haunted every night with memories of a life that aren't hers, but they sure feel real.


_**Based on my own headcanons surrounding Mary Margaret's cursed life and why she thought she had her wedding ring.**_

**You used to captivate me by your resonating light**

**Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind**

**Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams**

**Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me-Evanscence**

It hurts, a lot more than she thought it would. She had been warned a million times and always told it was worth it, but in that moment she wasn't so sure. Mary Margaret clenched onto the rails of the hospital bed, barely able to hear the doctor's words. She wanted to scream that she was doing the best she could. With every push, she prayed for relief, but it didn't come. Not for a full hour.

Finally, she could hear a baby crying. The doctor told her it was a girl and laid her on her chest. Mary Margaret stared down at her, counting her tiny fingers and toes, ten apiece. She was covered it gunk, but she was still the most perfect thing Mary Margaret had ever seen in her life. This was her baby girl. Her pride and joy.

The doctor told her they were just going to take her to get cleaned, but in a blink of an eye, the room was empty. The lights went out and there were storm clouds out the window. Mary Margaret laid in her hospital bed, sobbing for the baby, but no one ever brought her back. No one came for her. She managed to get out of bed, determined to find her. She limped down the hall, her paper dress crinkling.

When she turned the corner, she found herself in the nursery she had prepared. It all ready for a baby…except there was no baby there. Instead, there was a pool of blood in the center of the rug. The doors to the wardrobe were open, but it was completely empty.

Mary Margaret sunk to her knees, the tears falling down her face. The rain hit the window harder and soon, it blasted open. The wind enveloped everything, knocking over the carefully selected porcelain dolls and stuffed animals. The unicorn mobile fell to the ground, the glass horses shattering into a million pieces. The destruction didn't stop, not until it swallowed Mary Margaret whole.

Mary Margaret shot up in bed, panting. Sweat dripped down her forehead, as she looked around the room. She was in her loft, she was safe. Her hand went to her stomach and she was reminded that it was all just a dream. She was never pregnant; her body didn't reflect that. It was all just a horrible nightmare. One that haunted her every single night.

"That's a pretty ring," Emma said.

It was after dinner one night and the two were washing dishes. Mary Margaret had put it back on once they were dried and put back in place. Her eyes focused on the emerald stone set in silver. She ran her pruny finger over it, smiling.

"Thanks."

"Where'd you get it?"

Mary Margaret paused. She felt like she had, had it forever. The second Emma asked about it, though, it was like her mind was being ripped open and new memories flooded it.

She couldn't place the man's face, but he smiled at her with all the love in the world. They went on grand adventures, fighting off muggers in the woods. In fact, they had only met because she had stolen the ring from him when she was homeless. It was long before she started college or she got her life in order. The man made her smile, he understood her. He proposed with the very same ring after she had spent several days in bed with mono.

Then the next thing she could remember was blood, a lot of it. It seeped through his white button down and he wouldn't wake up, no matter how hard she tried to shake him. She kissed him a few times, almost as if she thought that would work? Regina had appeared and told her it was no use; he wouldn't be coming back to her.

There had been a smile on her face when she delivered the news and it was the first time Mary Margaret wished she could gather the strength to punch her in the face.

Mary Margaret bit her lip, shaking off the now traumatic memory. "An old boyfriend," she mumbled.


End file.
